by Lola White
“She’s still young.”
Georgie snorted. “She’s twenty-five, older than me.”
Adam’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? And unmarried? I thought the Levys passed their women off quicker than that.”
Christiana laughed. “Scared of jealous husbands?”
“When I’m surrounded by someone else’s Family? Yes!” he shot back.
Georgie waved them both to silence. “She’s about to be betrothed to Graves Ngozi, a match I wouldn’t have thought suited her.”
“Graves is the head of the secondary branch of his Family, in England.” Adam suddenly looked seriously thoughtful, his quick mind running through the options. “He’s a wild card, a rogue within the Family and so damn full of magic he almost scares me.”
Georgie made a sound that could be construed as agreement. “I wonder how their marriage will turn out. I got the distinct impression that Constance plays by the rules. Except when she doesn’t.”
Adam took her meaning and excused himself. Georgie and Christiana watched him approach the group and charm his way into their midst. The consummate politician. He was good at that—putting people at ease, conjuring their laughter and smiles, settling ruffled feathers with a casual word.
Georgie turned back to Christiana. “What were you and Costel talking about, at the Lovasz estate?”
One pale, elegantly bared shoulder lifted. “Nothing very serious. I asked him what his plans were, for when he took over the Family.”
Georgie felt some of the tension slip from her spine. Her cousin’s tone held nothing but honesty. “Oh, nothing serious, sure.”
Christiana grinned. “Well, it’s not very serious for me, is it?”
“It could be for me.”
Her cousin brushed that off. “Silviu is coming to the Davenolds. What does it matter?”
Georgie shook her head. “And what seeds did you plant, dear cousin?”
“In such fertile ground, Georgie. He’s cake.” Christiana smiled, a cold and devious baring of her teeth. “I merely let him tell me all about his plans for crop rotations and the restocking of the fish in his lake, and—”
Georgeanne was unable to hide her shock. “Are you kidding me?”
“Sadly, no.” Christiana grimaced. “He seems to enjoy acting like some medieval prince, bent on extending his demesne. So I suggested he might want to invest in some business ventures, and steered him toward oil and gas exploration, technology development. That kind of thing.”
“And I suppose you suggested he invest in DFE Drilling and Tundra Tech?”
Davenold Family Enterprises was one of the largest energy resources firms in the world. They had their fingers in many pies—oil, gas and coal, experimental prototype reactors mixing magic with a cold-fusion style of theory. Tundra Tech was owned by Christiana’s husband, Milo Ivanov-Davenold.
“Milo is still looking for investors for his witches-only social media idea. Costel seemed very excited at the prospect of a site we can join without fear of exposure to the rest of the world, Georgie.”
Her lips quirked. “Did you tell him those companies belonged to our Family?”
Christiana raised her hands. “Only a moron would assume otherwise.”
“Costel is only moronic where his grandfather is concerned.”
“We should help him out with that. It could be our good deed for the year.”
Georgie stared at her cousin for a full minute, weighing all the options. Christiana waited patiently, an innocent smile edging her lips, persuasion lighting her blue eyes. Bits of information spun into new patterns in Georgeanne’s brain until all the dots were connected and she nodded.
Christiana pointed to a large, old woman with a sharp nose and disapproving face. Agatha Levy, a lady of some power in the primary Family branch, was an old ally of Madeleine’s, a friend from some European vacation in her youth. She was one of just a few women on the patriarchal side that had a real voice in coven politics. She could make life very difficult for all the Lovaszes, including Silviu.
“Start there,” Christiana said. “Not five minutes before you found us, Alexandru called her a horrid old battle-ax that should have been left to sink in the soft mud until it couldn’t be resurrected.”
“Dear God, he didn’t.”
“Yeah, it didn’t go over very well.”
Georgie’s shoulders slumped for a fraction of an instant before she pulled them straight and marched over to the offended woman. Christiana floated behind her, looking serene and submissive, until Georgie caught the flash of laughter in her eyes.
“Agatha! What on earth are you doing here and not in Chicago?”
The old woman smiled thinly. “Georgeanne, my dear, how are you? How is your grandmother?”
“She’s very well, as am I and Christiana.” Georgie waved, including her cousin in their conversation. “What brings you to Poland?”
“Germany, actually. My mother’s birthday is in a few days, so we came for a visit. She’ll be one hundred.”
Georgie smiled. “And congratulations on a long life well lived.”
“I’ll pass on the message, darling.” Agatha beamed, the expression on her admittedly unbeautiful face melting into something much more pleasant. “Once I heard of the Family event, of course I came straightaway.”
“I’m so glad you did, too. I would have missed you otherwise.”
“You’re here with the handsome Silviu?”
Georgie smiled widely, as if she were pleased about the whole situation. “I am. Ileana would be the first of the Lovasz children to marry and it’s my duty as his betrothed to stand with the Family.”
“If it goes through,” Agatha snorted. “I was there, at both the Njele fiasco, and the Castillo riot. We were all lucky to get out of that one with our lives.”
Georgie winced. “I’d heard it was bad. I couldn’t make it to that one, I was in Peru at the time, and my cousin was married the same day as the Njele celebration.”
“Be thankful, darling. They were both awful.” Agatha let her eyes roam the room, a small frown pulling at her forehead. “I don’t see him now, but I do remember Eliasz being smitten with Ileana at the Castillo affair. He couldn’t take his eyes from her.”
“And lucky for him, he has his chance now.”
Agatha squinted down her nose. “You think it will go through, do you?”
“Oh yes, ma’am. The Family is very much on board with this match.”
“Even Alexandru?”
“From what I understand, yes.”
Agatha’s dark eyes went glacial. “He’s horrid.”
“He’s senile.”
The older woman’s mouth worked with confusion. “Excuse me?”
Georgie sighed and put everything she had into the lie. “His brain is just rotting away inside his skull. Poor Costel certainly has his hands full.” Georgie lowered her voice. “He’s already doing all the work, has all but taken the Family power. We’re just trying to humor the evil old man by playing along.”
“Good heavens.” Agatha’s hand rose to her chest, her eyes gleaming as if she’d just heard the best gossip of her life. “Poor Costel. Poor, dear thing.”
“It’s sad.” Georgie nodded. “But we don’t want to tip Alexandru over the edge. Did I mention that Costel very much likes Eliasz? I believe they’ve arranged to go fishing the day after tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Agatha blinked and straightened. “My, that’s lovely, darling. You will excuse me, won’t you, dear? I’ve just seen a cousin I haven’t…” Agatha drifted away before her words had even left her mouth.
Georgie turned to Christiana with a smile. “She looks better now.”
Christiana erupted into peals of laughter. “Oh, God, now she’s going to spread that around. When will you learn to control your mouth?”
Georgie reached out to grab Christiana’s arm, giving her a small shake. Just enough to help the laughter die and garner her cousin’s full attention. “Get a hold of yourself.
It’s not too far from the truth.”
“Oh, no, Georgie…”
“Now you go find Costel and plant that seed in his fertile ground, will you?”
* * * *
Silviu peeled himself away from a hissed argument his family was holding in an alcove when dinner was announced. Reluctantly taking his arm, Georgie let him push her into the flow of guests filing out of the reception room. Without speaking, they crossed the hall to the formal Family dining room.
Settling into a seat next to Silviu, Georgie looked across the table at her cousin, head bent toward Costel’s. Alexandru was stuffed between his heir and his son, and given very little room to cause trouble. Georgie’s breath locked in her lungs, a cold shiver sliding down her spine as he lifted hate-filled eyes to meet her gaze.
Refusing to let the old man see her weakness, she calmly raised a haughty eyebrow and turned to Silviu. “What was that about? In the other room.”
“Alexandru’s behavior,” he murmured, as a server set plates of steaming food before them. “It was outrageous, some of the things he’s said to people.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Georgie waved a dismissive hand and reached for her glass of wine. “I took care of that.”
To her vast amusement, the woman on the other side of Silviu chose to comment on the subject at that moment. “Silviu, I’ve heard the terrible news. Just know the Levys will help however we can. I, myself, am a registered nurse. If you need any help with poor Alexandru, you will let us know, yes?”
Silviu opened his mouth. Georgeanne put her hand on his thigh and squeezed until he closed it again. He blinked and smiled, almost hiding his confusion. In the end, he only said, “Thank you, ma’am.”
Rudely, Georgie leaned past Silviu and offered the woman a sunny smile. “I’ve never known the Levys to be anything but extremely generous. Thank you.”
Happy with the appreciation, the woman turned back to her dinner. Silviu turned to Georgie. He was less than amused.
She bit her lip. “I told Agatha Levy that Alexandru was senile.”
His eyebrows flew to his hairline. “You what?”
Georgie smiled brightly and pinched his leg. She looked around, down the long length of the table, stretching on for what seemed like miles. Tall candles blocked the view of many faces, light reflecting off china plates and polished silverware. Most were engrossed in their own private conversations with their neighbors, but a few raised their voices to speak to the diners across the table. No one seemed to be paying attention to them, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t.
“I needed to find an excuse for his behavior.” Georgie nodded toward Christiana and Costel, similarly occupied in a whispered conversation. “Chris is explaining to your brother, as we speak. I made it seem as if Costel has all but taken over, and that makes your Family seem a bit more stable. Secure.”
Silviu released a long, controlled breath. “If he hears what you’ve done, his reaction will not be mild.”
“Who says he has to know?”
Silviu’s hand dropped under the table to cover hers, sending heat winging over her knuckles. His magic rose to wrap her wrist. She jerked against his hold, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, Georgie.”
She raised her eyes to his helplessly, struggling to follow his words as his magic blew her thoughts from her brain. He noticed. His eyes darkened, a slow smile spread over his lips.
“How long can you deny me?”
She had to force the words from her throat. “I need time.”
His hand lifted from hers, giving her a second of peace before he ripped her wits away with a slide of his palm against her bare knee. Holding her gaze, smiling politely for the benefit of any guests watching, he smoothed his hand over her skin, under her skirt, drifting higher as she was held captive by social etiquette.
She didn’t want to cause a scene.
Her own hand quickly pressed to his, but his fingers were already close to her panties, high enough to burn her with the heat of his fingertips. A hint of him, softening her.
Panic flashed through her. When Silviu frowned, she knew it must have flashed through her eyes as well. Whatever he’d done over the past ten years, Georgie hadn’t. She didn’t have experience with this sort of thing, couldn’t hold herself together while he secretly touched her in the middle of a crowded room.
Slowly, he eased his hand back down. “All right, my love, take it easy.”
“I can’t… Not here. Not like that.”
Catching her fingers in his, he lifted her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. “No. Not here.”
He turned from her then, focusing on his dinner. Georgie took a shuddering breath and poked at her potatoes. A few minutes later, a weight settled on her, pulling at her attention. She looked up and found Alexandru’s gaze fixed in her direction. She braced herself.
“Tell me something, Georgeanne.” The old man’s deep voice rumbled over the table in perfect Polish, catching the notice of many nearby with a pleasant tone that was entirely unexpected from him. “As a matriarchal witch, do you believe yourself to be the equal of a man?”
She smiled at the trick question, even as her nerves chilled. The answer, of course, was yes. But she was surrounded by patriarchs, was sitting in the middle of a dinner hosted by a patriarch and she would, herself, marry a man born to a patriarchal Family. The answer she gave couldn’t be a simple yes.
Alexandru was craftier than he often appeared.
Silviu choked on his wine. Georgie willed him to remain silent. His interference would shift the power from her to him, in the eyes of those present. She couldn’t allow that.
“In physical strength, and perhaps even stamina,” she said slowly, “I wouldn’t dream that I would be equal to a man. In intelligence and with the ability to lead my Family, I would claim to be any man’s match.”
His eyes narrowed. “You believe the Mother tribes to be of identical value to the Father Families.”
More conversations around Georgie died off and more heads turned toward her. “An interesting choice of words, sir. Tribe versus Family. It implies one has a greater value than the other, of course.”
“And you believe I’m wrong?”
“We all know the histories, the centuries of war that leveled our culture. The lives lost, because our ancestors were so set in their ways. The choice to follow Fathers instead of the traditional Motherhood and the eventual creation of our Council, to settle disputes between the two sides of the Schism.” Georgie turned her smile on her neighbors. “We are a much more enlightened group of witches today, aren’t we?”
Several people agreed, murmurs racing through the crowd. Alexandru snorted, cutting through the din. “How are we different from those who have gone before us? Don’t we all want our own way? Power for our Families?”
“You are correct, yes.” She nodded as if she were conceding the point. Then she let her smile deepen as she turned the tables, poking at his old-fashioned desire for land. “However, we are long past the days of fighting for territory. We are civilized people who know money and politics can go much further toward gaining what we wish than casting spells and burning effigies.”
He bared his teeth. “Do you look down on us and our magic because you are Bane?”
Gasps broke the silence of their audience. Her handicap was common knowledge among the witching world—after all, she was the only Bane witch in existence—but it was considered rude to speak of it. Even dangerous, courting her grandmother’s wrath. In all her life, Silviu, who straightened and opened his mouth to defend her, was the only witch outside her immediate family who had dared to even say the word to her face.
Laying her hand against Silviu’s arm, she was unsurprised when he snatched it and linked their fingers in a furious show of support. Comfort took root in her chest as she recognized the sensation of his magic sliding against her. Soft gold light filled her peripheral vision
and several more gasps rang through the room.
Squeezing Silviu’s fingers, she met Alexandru’s watchful stare with a calm expression. “On the contrary, sir, I have a great deal of respect for magic because I don’t have my own.”
“But you think to rule a Family without it.”
Georgie lifted her chin. “Many witches have little magic, and there are many times when magic isn’t prudent to use. We aren’t cavemen to club each other over the head with our talent. I’ve been involved in numerous discussions where magic isn’t used at all, because we no longer need to prove ourselves in that way.”
The woman on the other side of Silviu caught Georgie’s emphasis and humphed with approval. Georgie had just set Alexandru up against the entire Levy Family, notoriously low on magical ability. The Lovasz Father was beautifully poised to topple—she only had to ease the way for Alexandru’s downfall.
She strangled the tiny voice of conscience in her head.
“Magic is the bedrock of witchery, girl. How can you run a Family without it?”
Georgie let patronizing gentleness fill her words. “I realize, sir, that you spend most of your days within the perimeter of your estate, so you may not know the extent of my capabilities. Ask around, and many will tell you how I’ve worked to better the lives of all witches, on both sides of the Schism. They’ll tell you how I’ve spent time in negotiations between Families, helping them solve their conflicts, helping them reach agreement with each other.”
“But you have no magic.”
Georgie loved Alexandru’s predictability. At the head of the table, Daniel Levy stirred. It was well known that his magic was weaker than most, yet his political savvy was strong enough to allow his Family to overlook that disadvantage. No one challenged him for his position. Georgie had counted on him taking offense, and had phrased her words carefully, silently thanking her foresight in suggesting that Costel was the one truly leading the Lovasz Family.
“I can attest to Ms. Davenold’s accomplishments,” Daniel said. “I’ve seen her in action and all I can say is, if she had magic, she would rule us all!”
Laughter followed Daniel’s words, breaking the rising tension. Georgie lifted her glass in a salute to the other man and waited for Alexandru’s next outburst. Silviu tensed at her side, preparing himself as well.